Rub eyes and squint

Names on the table:

Poop Vadoop and Flegma Vagine.

No bunnies died in the making of this blog

Alcohol, drug, nicotine, caffeine and nitrate free. Damn good thing I still have sex.

As if it were written for the movies

Romantic kissing...

"Hey, you taste like maple syrup."
"I just went down on Mrs. Butterworth."
"You cheat on me again, I'll cut you."
"I know, baby, I know."

Java the Hut

Started cutting down on caffeine this weekend.

I'll let you know how it's going as soon as I finish biting the head off this kitti..zz.z....zzzz.....

So THAT explains it

I've got one thing to say, and one thing only:

Holy Shit.

Fowlness

Pray tell, besides owls, what type of f*cking birds wake up at 3:00 in the morning and chirp continuously until 4:00??? HUH??? The other night it was so bad I thought that perhaps I had stumbled over the white noise machine that I thought I had lost, and that maybe my crippled toe had hit the volume control and set it to "raging tornado level with melodious sweet forest chirping sounds, CA Redwoods (protected)", and, after groping around in the dark for twenty minutes, that perhaps the white noise machine was possessed and scurrying around mere inches away from my angry fingers, but noooooooo, it was nothing I could smash with a hammer or exorcise with a priest, but rather a family of some urban hybrid of bird, hell bent on chirping out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their minuscule-yet-Gladiator-strong lungs.

LDS, not LSD

Late Wednesday afternoon, lounging in the backyard with the guy and the offspring, when two young women, both sporting sunglasses, approach the yard. The males chitchat with them a bit while I finish scrubbing down the grill.

I realize they aren't classmates of the teen aged offspring when I notice they are both sporting long denim dresses on this hot afternoon, and I hear my son say, "You're from Germany? I'm surprised, because Martin Luther...", and even HE knows that's not flirting. The boyfriend wanders over with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "Mormons. The kid's got it covered."

After a lengthy discussion, my son comes back with a pamphlet and a shit eating grin. "Just tell me you were respectful," is all I say-for a bit.

"Actually," I muse aloud, "you could have a party, and invite the ruffians from your school, who would bring drugs and alcohol, and we could introduce those girls to bikini underwear-it's awfully hot for them to have to wear their traditional undergarments. It's too bad they're not Amish, because then we could put zippers on EVERYTHING-the door, the potato chip bags, the toilet seats, and they would have to walk around like zombies and say things like, 'Prithee, open this Doritos bag, for it is ungodly closed, and I must have some of the delectably goodness,' or, 'Thine outhouse is a work of the Devil,'

...that's when the boyfriend gave me a wedgie to shut me up and I started chasing him around the yard with a pair of tongs, and I lost my train of thought, and my son sank into a lawnchair with the deepest expression of mortification possible.

More Coffee, Mate

Our school district is the only system in the United States to have this week off. Since this has made travelling with the offspring or visiting with most friends impossible, I have decided to do yard work and clean closets. Although I live in a house the size of a postage stamp, the yard is almost two city lots riddled with evil rose bushes and long viney things that reach menacingly toward me whenever they hear the back door slam. (What if enough of them lodged themselves down your throat? You'd choke! What do you think your last thought would be? Mine? I always knew.)

So in the backyard I have a 3' by 5' area sectioned off with wood planks that was installed by the former owners during the Nixon administration. I have no idea what they planted back then, but currently it contains the greenest and most lush grass in the entire neighborhood, of which, I must admit, I am very proud.

A corner of the yard was once hoed, planted and watered by my best friend's husband. I am currently the most scared of that area, because it contains to large "burrows" that either house cute Mr. Bunny or large Norwegian rats. I was very close to poking the holes with sticks, but then remembered some wise words from my Uncle Clem: "Never poke holes with sticks."

What concerns me most, however, is that the hallway closet has the very same holes.

Envy me, I am your Queen

Ahh, here I am at 8:14 a.m., EST, drinking coffee, contemplating the day, which will probably consist of a gym run and a pedicure, and perhaps a visit with my infant niece, and, hopefully, not much else.

Is this a hoax?

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html

The man sent me this. He was, as expected, "right-brained". I expected to be as well, but when I opened the email, I was surprised to discover that I saw the woman spinning counter-clockwise, and that no matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn't get her to spin the other way.

This actually bothered me a bit because I have consoled myself for many years that I am not weird so much as creative, and this rather shot that theory to hell.

Tonight, as I was gorging on pasta while watching Scrubs, I had my Eureka moment: I had taken half of a xanax that morning in order not to kill a co-worker! YES! I MUST be creative and a right brained thinker. I rushed upstairs to this here computer room, and looked at the image again. Sure enough, I saw her spinning clockwise. I made a phone call, looked back at the screen, and then she was spinning...counter-clockwise. She changed almost every time I looked away from the screen, without any concentration on my part, leading me to re conclude that:

1. I am absolutely fucking nuts OR
2. Someone is fucking with me in a big way.

Thank you Y*hoo "News"

Put Bats to Work in Your Garden
http://www.att.net/s/editorial.dll?bfromind=2794&eeid=5441960&

Sounds freakin' awesome to me-I need some hoeing and weeding done.

Or, during the winter months, you could tie a bunch together in front of a verrry tiny sled, and glue a red fuzz ball on the first one, and have them fly around in a circle over your ohsoverytacky blow up nativity scene.

I am SO going there

Forgive me for repeating myself, but it drives me fucking bonkers that the first grade teacher that lives a coatroom away comes into my room as often as 6 times before noon in order to drop off unimportant papers or tell me about some piddly shit. Since our students did a play together last semester, I kind of felt like I had to put up with it, even though when she leaves her room she is not only disturbing my students and me, she is leaving 22 6 year olds unsupervised in her room. She is also racist against blacks, and not in a subtle PC witch hunt kind of way-in a way that continues to surprise me. We ended up doing ANOTHER play together this semester, in part because she alienated her grade level team members through means that are too lengthy to get into here, but it was done purposefully to screw them over and so that she did not have to teach a particular area. When it's all said and done, though, stupid me for not setting limits, because, sure enough, she has tried to live up my ass this semester as well.

Today took the cake. Her third grade son is on vacation this week. Fine. She took off a couple of days to be with him. Fine. (Though I think she has only worked three full weeks this year, and I'm not exaggerating.) Her son has ADHD. OK, that sucks for the kid. She only has him take medicine for school days. Fine, I could actually make the same decision if I had a child who truly had ADHD. She asked if a few weeks ago if he could be the curtain guy for our play, and I said, unsuspectingly, Sure, thinking it would be kind of cute.

DO YOU SEE WHERE I'M GOING WITH THIS????Ya do? Cuz I sure as hell wish I had seen what was coming.

Kudos, you guessed it. She took today off, but came in for the dress rehearsal, which took place in front of a student audience, and sure enough, the little boy was in tow. So...her class had had a sub all day, and there they were, pretty distracted on stage, alongside my class. And there SHE was, on the other side of the stage, and there I was, on the other side, responsible for my class AND AN UNMEDICATED 8 YEAR OLD WITH ADHD (and a water bottle) THAT WAS NEITHER MY STUDENT NOR A RELATIVE. I was also privy to the fact that he has a bladder control problem, so when he began hopping up and down saying "I have to pee NOW", I escorted him down into the audience and chose an older student to bring him to the bathroom, hoping the whole goddam time that I could get back on stage quick enough for the scene change. Before his second trip to the bathroom, he popped on and off the side landing and also managed to piss me off by grabbing the curtain rope, and whining, "I'LL do it, I'LL do it," even though he had been pretty active playing with his water bottle and missing cues. I don't blame him, though, but his f*cking c*nt of a mother, and I gotta tell ya, that's only the second time I've used the "c" word in my life.

Grrrrrr

My hair is juuuuuuuuussst long enough to drive me absolutely fucking bonkers.

(KS, hands on hips, grumpy, blowing spurts of air up into woolly mammoth bangs.)

Who cares where the commas go

The top three reasons I'm almost late for work.

1. Masturbation.
2. Reading blogs.
3. Laying on my bed so that the mirror catches the reflection of my arm and hand, with four fingers laying against my thumb like a beak, while I move my arm back and forth, so that it looks like an ostrich is walking across the room.

a la Bendy Girl

The son and I went to Cirque du Soleil on Thursday night, which was truly an amazing experience. At one point, I found myself staring with my mouth wide open, and at another, I realized I had drawn my knees up to my chest and had squeezed my eyes halfway shut. The highlight for me was hearing my blase, worldly son exclaim, "Holy cow, Mom, did you SEE that?!?"

The woman behind me must have certainly enjoyed the show, because not only was it amazing to watch and listen to, her husband was kind enough to narrate the entire first act.
"Look- see the kite? There's a string going from the top of the kite to the ceiling! THAT'S how they get it to fly."
"Yes, dear."
"Woe ho! See! He's distracting us while the other guy is doing the trick. THAT'S how they fool you!"


Beware David Copperfield! Watch out Penn and Teller! THIS guy is giving away all your trade secrets!

Miss Jackson if...

Names I've been called this week:
"Mama" (Hot bagel shop employee)
"Hon" (Late forty something male librarian)
"Douchebag" (Too many people to list)
"SnooperliciciousGirl" (I made that up)

The one that took me by surprise was the "Hon" from the librarian. I swear I had the letters "WTF" floating over my head for the rest of the conversation.

SNL

I brought a small house plant into school today, then glued googly eyes onto the leaves.

Only one person got it. Everyone else said, "Oooh, how cute."

Babe

I ran into the guy who left me his number at the Bagel Shop on Saturday at ... the Bagel Shop (cripes, I need to get out more) and we chatted briefly. He was always good looking, but he had obviously spent some time hitting the gym because he chest looked broader, and his stomach flatter and his shoulders and arms...let's just say I noticed the changes. I tried my damnedest to just talk and not flirt, but old habits die hard.

He lives nearby and recently built a huge garage that looks like a barn on the back of his property. As I drove home from work on Monday, I could have sworn I saw a pig in his yard. I laughed to myself, because when I had seen him earlier, I had complimented him on the garage, but had mistakenly used the word barn instead.

Sure enough, Monday evening a text came.
"Are you still taken, or can we finally go out and have some fun?"
"Still happily taken, but I must admit I'm intrigued by a man with a pig."
*****
*****
"What pig?"

Mr. Bagel Grid Man

Friday morning, bagel shop, and all I want is a large coffee. Great, only one guy in front of me! I'll make it to work early.

The man is in his forties, short and balding, and he is bouncing a bit from foot to foot with a paper in his hand.

"...oh, wait, guys, I'm so sorry. Those were the alternates. Here-here's the order."
Alternates? I can imagine this guy during the off season playing Fantasy Bagel.
He runs a finger down what I now see to be a grid with the names of all the bagels listed.
"Three sesame-but in a separate bag. Two multi-grain, four honey wheat..."
So I wonder, why put the sesame in a separate bag? The sticky cinnamon ones, I would understand, but sesame?
"...three poppy seed, and three egg."
The cashier says, "For a dollar, I can give you a dozen and a half. Would you like three more?"
The man looks at his grid, looks at the cashier, and says, "I'd have to make a phone call."

They're Grrreaaaa-stupid

Twenty-somethings wearing spandex leopard print shirts with glitter should NOT be in charge of the bank drive-through.

Taserlicious

I am so going to buy a bunch of disposable cameras.

Koko

When I paint a self portrait that looks like an elephant, do I get any publicity? Nooooo. Damn pachyderm.

Getcher freak on

Sometimes I buy condoms at CVS when the front of the store is very busy, just so I can go to the empty pharmacy checkout and get the hell out without waiting with the great unwashed. A little acting is required-down turned eyes and a quick, embarrassed gesture to the basket, but it's well worth the effort.

April

Am I up and ready to go so early because I hit the gym at 5 and an aiming for school to set up a fun project?

Nope. I have all my Christmas decorations out and am set to decorate the office.